December 09, 2020
by Mary Clifford Morrell
Like most parents, when my children were growing up, I did a lot of watching and waiting. I think the waiting was harder of the two. It involves a certain amount of trust to overcome any doubt or fear, which may be part of the wait.
We lived close to a neighborhood park, which my sons liked to frequent. They would get together with their friends and ride, as a group, down to the small creek running through the park, race their bikes down a sloped path, play sports, or get into whatever mischief young kids do when they are enjoying a bit of freedom.
Nevertheless, as dusk started to fall, I would take my place on the street corner behind my house and peer down the road into the park, anxiously waiting for a sign of furious pedaling that would bring them all home safely.
I often felt like the father looking off into the distance for any sign of the prodigal son, except this was a frequently recurring scene, and I spent much time worrying.
I am reminded of this experience every Advent, not only because Advent is a time of watching and waiting, but because my most difficult times of waiting always seemed to be at night, especially when grown-up children started driving the car.
During his homily in St. Peter’s Basilica on the first Sunday of Advent, Pope Francis underscored that Advent is a time of “God’s closeness and our watchfulness.” He continued, saying, “It is important to remain watchful because one great mistake in life is to get absorbed in a thousand things and not to notice God,” then sharing the worlds of St. Augustine, “Timeo Iesum transeuntem” (I fear that Jesus will pass by me unnoticed).
“Having to be watchful, however, means it is now night,” said the Holy Father. “Yes, we are not living in broad daylight, but awaiting the dawn, amid darkness and weariness.”
Weariness is such a powerful word to describe how most of us feel, having traveled so long through this pandemic and having no specific end in sight. However, I imagine Mary and Joseph suffered from a similar weariness as they traveled the long road from Nazareth to Bethlehem, expecting the birth of their child at any time and then to be turned away from the inn when they needed a clean and safe place the most. They may have lost hope if not for their faith in God.
“The light of day will come when we shall be with the Lord,” Pope Francis reminds us. “Let us not lose heart: the light of day will come, the shadows of night will be dispelled, and the Lord, who died for us on the cross, will arise to be our judge. Being watchful in expectation of his coming means not letting ourselves be overcome by discouragement. It is to live in hope.”
Mary Regina Morrell is a Catholic journalist, author, and syndicated columnist who has served the dioceses of Metuchen and Trenton, New Jersey, and RENEW International in the areas of catechesis and communication.